In the Spirit of Thanksgiving
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: Kurt's annual Thanksgiving dinner welcomes a few new faces.


_**A/N** : Because the holidays make me warm and fuzzy, and we all know that no matter what, K. Weller is, at heart, a Good Guy™. :) This story is set in an AU post-1x10. Please enjoy!_

* * *

Jane didn't expect to be invited this year. She knew Thanksgiving was a time for family and friends, and while she had happily accepted Kurt's request the year before, a lot had changed in the intervening months. She wasn't family to him anymore, the way she had been then. Now, she likely wasn't even a friend.

And though that thought made her heart sink whenever she dared to stop and contemplate it, she had trained herself these past few months to brush such regret away, and to move forward regardless. It was not up to her if their relationship improved, and if they were destined to be nothing other than coworkers who were civil to one another, then that would be what they were. She could not expect more from him, not after everything that had happened and everything she had taken from him, and so she did not ask.

That's what made it so surprising when he did.

She was heading to the elevators when he called her name the Friday before Thanksgiving, and she turned just in time to see him coming out of the bullpen. She stopped at once, waiting for whatever was coming: a request for her to stay late to finish the day's paperwork, or a reprimand for not following proper security protocol, or a reminder that timecards were due and she hadn't finished hers. But when he opened his mouth the words that came out had absolutely nothing at all to do with work.

"Do you have plans for next Thursday yet?"

"Plans?"

Jane blinked at the offer, not sure if she was more surprised that he was asking after her social life or that he was apparently trying to insert himself into it. They hadn't spent any time together outside work since she'd been arrested and consequently released months ago. Sometimes they went whole days at work without speaking to each other apart from him issuing orders and her obeying them. Over time, she had learned to stop expecting friendship from him, no matter how much she missed it.

 _Do you have plans for next Thursday yet?_ In her shock at his invitation, she hadn't even grasped what he was hinting at.

"Plans…" She wracked her brain, trying to think. She didn't think she had any plans on Thursday. Why was he asking after Thursday? What did he want? "Um, no," she answered awkwardly after a moment. "I don't think I have plans on Thursday."

"Oh! Really?" He seemed genuinely surprised at her answer; his eyebrows actually shot up a bit in response. "I thought for sure you guys would already have everything sorted…" As he trailed off, waiting for her to explain, Jane frowned, completely lost now. Kurt didn't seem to notice. "Well, uh, good, then," he added quickly, a smile brightening his face as he forged ahead. "If you're free, then you should come by. Patterson's away with family again this year, but Zapata and Reade will still be coming. And my sister and her son will be there, of course. And maybe…"

As he continued rattling off the guest list, Jane couldn't help but shake her head, overwhelmed. She was tired, it had been a long week, and she just couldn't take playing along with whatever he was getting at right now.

"Kurt, I'm sorry," she interrupted, "but I have no idea what you're talking about. What is it you're inviting me to? Some… Some work party or something?" She remembered he'd mentioned his sister and nephew. "Or is it Sawyer's birthday? Sarah's?" She felt a pang of guilt—she hadn't even known their birthdays were coming up. Why was he inviting her? Clearly she had no business attending such a personal event if she didn't even know their birth dates.

Kurt stared at her blankly for a moment, as if she had suddenly begun speaking in Chinese or Russian or one of the many other languages she knew fluently and he knew not a word.

"Thanksgiving, Jane," he answered after a silence. "Thursday's Thanksgiving. I'm asking if you want to come over. For dinner."

"Oh." Jane's breath escaped her in a sigh—unfortunately not quite one of relief. She dug her teeth into her lower lip. She didn't quite know how to answer him.

Luckily, he seemed to intuit that.

"I didn't mean to spring this on you," he told her. "I thought you knew next week was—"

"No, I should know," she covered for him quickly, not wanting to force him to make excuses for her mistakes. "It's not your fault. The days have just been slipping away…"

She meant to say more, but there wasn't much else to say. She'd forgotten the date, forgotten the holiday she had only celebrated once, and now she had apparently forgotten politeness, because he was still standing there in front of her waiting for an answer. She licked her lips, trying for an explanation. She didn't come up with much.

"I… I'm sorry," she repeated lamely. "I just haven't had time to think about holiday plans yet…"

"No, I get it," he excused quickly, waving her nervousness off. "I know you have other things on your mind. I sprung it on you; you can get back to me later. Take whatever time you need. But just so you know—drinks are at five, dinner's at six. And you can let me know five minutes beforehand if you're coming or not. Or you can just show up, really. Whatever works for you."

She smiled gratefully at his kindness, but she couldn't make herself hold his eye. He didn't have to do this, she thought. Didn't have to do any of this. "Thank you, Kurt," she whispered.

He smiled briefly back, nodding his head as if to say their conversation was concluded, and then turned back to the bullpen. He only made it a couple steps before he turned back around again, one last thought coming to him.

"Oh, and hey, Jane—when you talk with Oscar about this, let him know he can come too. There'll be more than enough food."

It was lucky Kurt didn't stick around and wait for a response this time, because upon hearing that little addition, Jane was left staring after her old friend for a good two minutes, mouth open. When the elevator finally arrived—another agent on the twelfth floor having called it—she had to be asked twice if she was planning on going down to the lobby before she remembered to step on.

She made it home much faster that day than she would've liked. She meant to take a later train out of Canal Street station, meant to walk the long way home once she was over the river, but somehow she found herself squeezing onto the overcrowded first train instead, and then hopping on the bus instead of walking, and in a mere half-hour she was home.

Oscar was already there; he called hello from the kitchen when she came in. She took her time, finally, as she locked the door and hung up her coat and scarf on the peg by the door. She took so much time, in fact, that he wandered out to the front room to ask if her day had gone poorly. It wasn't unusual for her to grow quiet and avoid him after bad days at work sometimes. Knowing this, he kept his inquiry to a soft minimum.

"Did something happen at work, Jane?"

"Kurt invited us over for Thanksgiving," she blurted without preamble, and she saw in her boyfriend's expression what Kurt must've seen in hers: complete shock.

She closed her eyes, and pressed her fingertips against her temples.

"Sorry," she whispered a second later, knowing Kurt was as awkward a subject for her boyfriend as he was for her these days. "That wasn't how I meant to tell you about this. It's just that he asked the second I was getting ready to leave, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since, and…"

When she opened her eyes, Oscar had at least managed to close his hanging-open mouth. His eyes were still wide, though.

"I didn't know what to say," she told him, her voice pleading for understanding. "He caught me off-guard, too. I just agreed that I'd get back to him once you and I talked." She sighed, hanging her head. "I had completely forgotten Thanksgiving was next week. With everything else going on, I hadn't even realized…" She lifted her head, a thought suddenly occurring to her. Just because _she_ hadn't realized the holiday was coming up didn't mean that Oscar hadn't, too. "Kurt asked if we had plans, and I said we didn't," she said slowly, fearing she knew where this was going already. "But… Did you…?"

It was no secret between them that he was the one that planned things: dinner dates and little vacations and anniversary celebrations. He was the one that remembered everything. He was the one that always tried to make their lives normal, always. Even when they'd been in prison, he'd striven to keep them talking about normal subjects: food or workouts or what they thought the weather outside might be like. He clung to the ordinary, then and now.

She saw the look on his face and her heart sank. She had completely forgotten—had not spared a single _thought_ for celebrating this holiday with him—and yet here he had spent who knew how much time putting together what would've been their first Thanksgiving together in this second life.

He spoke before she could offer up what was sure to be an inadequate apology.

"It was nothing," he replied softly. "I hadn't really planned anything. I just thought we'd have a little dinner together, you and me. I'd show you how to cook the turkey, and make the stuffing, and the pies. We'd eat here, say what we're thankful for, have a nice night together…"

Jane mustered what small smile she could manage, and reached for his hand. "We can still do that," she assured him. "We can still have a nice night together if we go to Kurt's for—"

"Jane, we can't."

"Yes, we _can_. It's just dinner, Oscar. And Kurt invited _both_ of us—"

He pulled his hand out of hers, shaking his head. "No, he didn't, Jane. He invited _you_. Because he _wants_ you there. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"That isn't true. He went out of his way to ask if you could come—"

"Yeah, because he's a nice guy, Jane!" Oscar threw out his arms. "Of course he invited me; he was talking to you and he was being polite!"

"He said he'd be happy if you came, Oscar! He _wants_ you to come!"

Oscar snorted. "He _wants_ me to come? Really? Were those his exact words?"

"Oh, God, I don't remember what his exact words were, Oscar!"

"Yes, you do. I know you remember; you just said you've been thinking about it all evening. So what did he say, _exactly_?"

Jane sighed, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. He was right: she did remember. And what's worse was that what she remembered was exactly what Oscar thought, and not at all what she'd been championing. Kurt hadn't so much as invited Oscar, per se. He'd more of… made an excuse to include him at the last second. Oscar had been an afterthought in Kurt's mind.

And who could blame him, really? There was no reason either of them needed to take each other into consideration. No reason for either of them to be in each other's orbit at all, except in the few instances when, circling Jane, they happened to bump into each other. Then they quickly righted themselves and moved on as if nothing had happened.

They had their own realms in Jane's life and Oscar was not about to, under any circumstances, invade Kurt's.

"I don't care what he did or didn't say or did or didn't imply," Oscar told his girlfriend. "I'm not forcing myself into that man's home. Especially not during the holidays. I'm not doing it, Jane."

"Stop being dramatic! It wouldn't be forcing; you were invited—"

"Invited by a man who _does not want me there_ , Jane. Kurt was being nice when he offered, really nice, but let's all be honest with each other now—no one wants me there."

"That isn't true! _I_ want you there!" She reached out for his hands again. "Please," she whispered, squeezing them tight—so tight that he actually flinched. "Please come. Just for me, if for no one else. It'll be even more awkward if you stay home, you know that, Oscar," she continued, her voice taking on a low, warning tone as she caught his gaze and held it through sheer force of will. "Everyone will ask me where you are. Don't put me in the position of having to explain your absence to everyone. Don't make me smile at the pitying looks; don't make me pretend I can't hear when they say 'good riddance'. _Don't_ make me do that, Oscar."

He sighed, looking down at the carpet as he weighed his options alone, and theirs together. Finally he looked up and asked, "Is Tasha going to be there, at least?"

Jane grinned, knowing any mention of Tasha was a yes. She and Oscar had formed some sort of inexplicable bond while he'd been in custody, and it had only grown stronger in the months since. Tasha's faith in him, and in Jane, had been one of the reasons they'd gotten such a good deal with the Bureau. She had been on their side when everyone else could barely look at them, and she had worked hard to make others see the truth of their story.

Jane let go of Oscar's hands so she could hug him.

"Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder. "Oscar, thank you."

He held her close, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "No thanks necessary," he murmured. "You're right; I should be there beside you, I know." He sighed heavily over her shoulder. "Just don't let me drink too much while we're there, okay? The last thing any of us needs is for me to make a drunken ass out of myself in Weller's damn apartment."

Jane grinned, pulling back. "No promises on that front, sorry. You're fun when you drink."

"I am a _child,_ Jane."

She laughed. "Exactly."

* * *

Six days later, Jane stood shivering in place, Oscar at her side, as they loitered on the sidewalk in front of Kurt's building. "Okay," she said, decisively (for what had to be the fifteenth time this evening). "You ready yet?"

"No. Just—give me a minute."

"I've given you ten minutes." She checked her watch, then corrected: "Eleven, now."

"Okay, so give me eleven more."

" _Oscar_."

"Jane, the man interrogated me for _weeks_! He sat across from me while I was in chains; he literally held my life in his hands. Please give me some time to come to terms with this dinner."

"You've had six days to come to terms with it," Jane reminded him testily.

"Yeah, well, I spent most of those six days pretending it wasn't really going to happen," Oscar muttered under his breath. "So sue me, if you like."

"If I thought it could hold up in court, I would."

She grinned at her own joke, but he merely scowled, not seeing any humor in the coming evening. She nudged her shoulder into his.

"Come on. Cheer up. It's one night. Drinks, dinner, dessert. Then we can leave. Nothing to worry about."

" _Everything_ to worry about, Jane! You do remember that Weller interrogated out every detail of my life? Of _our_ relationship? The things he knows, Jane—"

"And do _you_ remember that it was you who volunteered yourself to be interrogated?" Jane shot back, not having any part of this pity parade. "You do remember—and please don't go forgetting this—that we made a pact to cooperate fully with the FBI? To answer every question they asked us, no matter how personal or complicated? It's the only reason we're here right now, Oscar. It's the only reason we're alive."

He sighed, and tipped his head back to look up the side of the building. From where he stood, he couldn't see into the six-floor windows, but he could easily imagine what was there.

"To tell you the truth," he muttered under his breath, "I think I'd rather be dead."

Jane's only response was to hit the buzzer for apartment 6F a good deal harder than was strictly necessary.

* * *

Despite her flippant behavior downstairs, Jane too was nervous by the time they made it up to the sixth floor. The elevator doors opened with a hurrying _woosh_ , and yet it took her a few moments to step out. By the time they got to Kurt's door, she knew she should knock, but she couldn't make her arm move.

"Just dinner," Oscar reminded her quietly, steady as always by her side while their roles reversed once more. "Nothing to worry about. Promise."

She nodded in agreement, but even so, she could feel her mouth going dry. Those were her old friends on the other side of the door. Her coworkers. They weren't out to get her—not anymore, at least.

She drew in a breath, held it, then blew it out.

"Just dinner," she repeated. Then she found the strength to lift her arm and knock.

To her surprise, it wasn't Kurt who answered the door, but his sister. Jane had been so caught up in figuring out how she and Oscar were supposed to face him together that she'd forgotten all about the other Weller sibling.

But Sarah hadn't forgotten about her.

"Jane!" she exclaimed excitedly, immediately pulling her erstwhile sister into a tight hug. "So good to see you again!"

"Uh—you too," Jane managed, barely able to get a word out while crushed in the hug. Despite her slight frame, Sarah Weller was apparently just as strong as her brother. Jane was a little worried about the condition of her spine while in Sarah's arms.

"Oh, it's been forever since you've been over," the blonde sighed, still smiling as she pulled back. "And you look as beautiful as ever."

"Oh—um—thanks," Jane replied, glancing away. No matter how well intentioned, Sarah's compliments still made her feel awkward. Playing the only card she had to deflect attention, she stepped back and gestured to Oscar. "I hope you don't mind," she began, "Kurt said I could bring a, um, a friend—"

"Oh, of course, of course," Sarah assured her, turning her bright smile from Jane to Oscar. "I'm Sarah, Kurt's sister, so nice to meet you." She held open the door and gestured for them to head inside. "Please come in, almost everyone's here."

They did as bid, balancing the offerings they'd brought in their hands as they stepped into the entryway of Kurt's apartment.

"A _'friend'_?" Oscar muttered sourly in her ear, low enough that Sarah, who was locking the door behind them, couldn't hear.

"I'm sorry!" Jane whispered back. "I was on the spot, and Sarah still makes me uncomfortable, you know that, and I didn't know what to—"

" _Brenton_!"

The shout came from across the apartment, and Jane looked up to see—who else?—Tasha striding towards them with a wide smirk on her face.

"Who in the hell let you in?" she demanded happily, punching him none too lightly in the shoulder.

For what Jane hoped wouldn't be the last time tonight, she saw Oscar smile and heard him laugh. She readily took the pie pan he was holding so he could hug the brunette.

If everyone could be as eager as Tasha, as welcoming as Sarah, this night would be a breeze, Jane thought. But she caught sight of Reade frowning at them from the room Tasha had just come out of and, still nervous about Kurt's reaction, she knew things wouldn't be so easy.

"What'd you bring?" Tasha demanded, releasing Oscar only to grab the covered pie pans in Jane's hands and peek under the tinfoil. Her face lit up as she peered at the second one. "Oh, good choice," she grinned, her eyes flicking knowingly to Jane's. "Weller _loves_ cherry."

Jane managed a little smile, thankful that Tasha decided to leave it there and not make fun of her for such pandering—especially because, over the brunette's shoulder, she could now clearly see Kurt coming towards them. Tasha followed her gaze, and upon seeing Kurt as well, she grinned, and swiftly removed herself from the room, pies in hand.

"Jane," Kurt called happily. "Glad you could make it."

"Glad to be invited," she answered, breathing a sigh of relief that her tongue wasn't as stuck with this Weller as it had been with the other. When she glanced at Oscar beside her, though, all normal lines of conversation dropped right out of her head. "This is, um…" She gestured awkwardly to the man at her side, then swallowed hard, turning back to Kurt. "You remember Oscar, right? From, um, from before?"

Kurt's mouth twitched in amusement at the weak allusion. "Sure, Jane," he chuckled. "Sure, I remember Oscar from before." He held out his hand to the man in question and put up a friendly smile. "Hey, how've you been?"

"We brought pies," Oscar blurted, apparently the first and only thing that came to mind. "Tasha—she took them," he added quickly, pointing down the hall lest Kurt think he was lying. "But they're—we brought them. They're somewhere. The—pies."

Kurt glanced at Jane oddly, as if she might somehow be able to explain her boyfriend's outlandish behavior. The hard line of her mouth and her jutting chin and her complete refusal to look him in the eye, however, told him otherwise—she seemed like she was just barely holding back from driving her elbow into Oscar's side, or worse.

"Right…" Kurt answered slowly, his eyes migrating back to Oscar's. "Well, thanks for the pies. Nice to have you over." He glanced down at the open space between them, where his hand was still hanging in midair, unshook. When Oscar still didn't make a move to take it, Kurt sighed heavily. "Look, man, don't make this any weirder than it has to be. You're here to eat turkey, not be shot by a firing squad, all right? Just shake my hand and say hello. Then we can move on."

It took a few seconds for the synapses to fire, for the message to travel from ear to brain to muscle. But then it finally did, and Kurt's hand was no longer hanging there awkwardly, but clasped tight in Oscar's, and the visitor was muttering an almost inaudible hello.

Deciding it was apparently the best he could hope for, their host shrugged and turned away. As Kurt led the way into the kitchen with his newest guests following behind, he shook his head and let out a low whistle.

"Jesus. Gotta get some drinks in you two, huh?"

* * *

Dinner, as sometimes-merciful fate would have it, went much smoother than the introductions. Sarah, being the ever-helpful and creative host she was, had set out placards for everyone at their place, so there was no awkward rush to claim seats close to, or far away from, certain guests. Kurt sat on one head of the table and Sarah the other, with their friends and Sawyer all squashed in between.

It was clear from the size of Kurt's kitchen table that it wasn't meant to host a dinner of eight, but they made it work. There was a good bit of bumping elbows and kicking feet, but when paired with a good bit of wine and a delicious dinner—Kurt really _could_ cook—no one minded the close proximity, Jane least of all.

She had forgotten just how lovely it was to be around her friends again. Things had been so strange at work since her arrest and release that, apart from Tasha, she hadn't even attempted to re-cultivate her friendships with her coworkers outside of the office. She'd been scared of alienating them by trying for too much too soon, and so she hadn't made any attempts. But it seemed like they'd all just been waiting for an opportunity to welcome her back fully again. Even Reade, who she knew still had misgivings about Oscar, smiled at her a couple times during the dinner.

She was grateful they had this opportunity to make amends—and when they all went around the table sharing what they were most thankful for this year, that's what she told the whole room. She looked around at each person sitting there—her whole team, minus Patterson, and plus Borden, as well as Kurt's family—and she told each one of them how thankful she was that they'd allowed her a place in their lives: not only now, after the investigation, but prior to it, too. They didn't have to welcome her in all those months ago when she'd had no relatives and no friends and no home, but they had. They didn't have to treat her like family, but they had. They still did. She was more grateful for that then she knew how to say.

When she had finished, everyone murmured soft assurances, telling her that there was no thanks necessary, that they were her friends and would stand by her no matter what, and as she listened and looked around the table, she felt another surge of gratitude. She was certain she would never meet a kinder group of people, not if she lived a hundred more lives on top of her first two.

Oscar, being on her left, was slated to go next. Though she didn't look around to gauge the others' reactions, Jane knew she wasn't the only one at the table who had turned her gaze to him expectantly. Under the table, out of sight, she grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. He squeezed back and didn't let go.

"There are a lot of things I'm thankful for this year," he began slowly, his voice hardly louder than the whisper he'd greeted Kurt with. The volume hardly mattered, though—it was so utterly silent at the table that his words could likely be heard from across the room. "First of all, I am thankful that I'm here tonight, eating with you all, and not in any number of awful alternatives. I know I owe my current situation to many of the people in this room, and I would like to take a second to just say thank you for that. And…"

He cleared his throat as if to herald an important upcoming point, but then said nothing more. As the silence dragged on while Oscar attempted to sort though all he wanted to say, there were more than a few awkward throat-clearings and shifting in chairs. Sawyer had to be shushed more than once by his mother for asking what was going on. After half a minute, Tasha, sitting on Oscar's left, started to lean forward in her seat, as if to take the mantle from him. But then he found his voice again.

"Look," he began again, a good bit louder than before, "I know I'm the odd one out here tonight. I know most of you, if you didn't meet me earlier this evening, met me months ago under the worst circumstances possible. And I understand if, because of that, you still don't trust me, or don't like me, or don't want me around, and I'm not asking you to now. I just want you to know that what you all did for Jane…" He took a moment to look around the room, to meet the eye of each person sitting. No one was surprised when his gaze stopped at Kurt. "I want you to know how much I appreciate it. What it means to me. I'll never be able to make up for not being there when she so badly needed someone who knew her, but it does help to know that she had all of you. You not only looked after her, but you took her into your homes, you treated her like a friend… All of the things we were scared, before, that she would go without, you gave to her. You gave so much more than we expected. And I—" He paused to clear his throat. "I know I don't know any of you all that well right now. But I want you to know that, even despite how little we know each other, you all are what I'm thankful for this year. What I'll always be thankful for."

It was quiet for a long moment after Oscar finished speaking, until Sarah had the good grace to smile and raise her glass to him, saying, "What a lovely speech."

The rest of the table followed suit, and then the baton of thanksgiving was passed onto Tasha.

"Well, _God_ …," she sighed, blowing out a hard breath as she rolled her eyes with enough exaggeration to make them all smile. "I certainly don't have anything _nearly_ as heartfelt or touching to say, but I do have a few things I'm thankful for…" She went on to list her favorite moments from this past year, all of which featured the personal humiliations of those seated at the table, some so acute that certain persons (Reade) had to leave the table midway through her retelling.

By the time the tradition passed onto Kurt, there was an audible sigh of relief from every embarrassed face. And then there was a straightening of chairs—if everyone had been curious to hear what Oscar had to say, they were now doubly curious to hear what their host would say. He took a few seconds to swallow some wine, gather his thoughts, and then he spoke.

"As always," he began, "I'm grateful I'm here to see another Thanksgiving. I'm happy to have my family with me, and I'm lucky to be able to count my coworkers among my friends." He paused a second, and they all waited, wondering if he would mention those that weren't coworkers, those that weren't friends. "I'm thankful to be here with all of you," Kurt said finally, looking up and down the table. "All of you."

* * *

After the desserts had been consumed (with the cherry pie being praised heartily by Kurt) and the coffee had been distributed (with hot chocolate for Sawyer), and each person had drifted about to an area of the apartment to rest, Jane found herself loitering at the edge of the living room, accompanied by her psychiatrist. He, like her, had his eyes trained on the kitchen, and an ear canted toward the two men conversing by the counter.

"You only came this year so you could watch the show, didn't you?" Jane accused, keeping her voice low so as not to draw Kurt and Oscar's attention across the room. "This is like one big social experiment to you, isn't it?"

"Not at all, Jane," Dr. Borden answered smoothly. When she glared at him, he couldn't help but smile. "Perhaps a little bit," he admitted.

Jane shook her head. "I have no allies left," she muttered sourly.

"Hm, on the contrary," Dr. Borden murmured. He tipped his head across the room, and Jane peeked over to see that Kurt and Oscar were still engaged in what appeared to be a rather pleasant conversation.

She couldn't help the feeling of relief that rush through her at the sight of them getting along—nor the smile that sprung to her face. Ever since the end of dinner, when they'd said their thanks for the year, she felt like she'd been smiling non-stop. She did not know what she'd done to deserve such a lovely Thanksgiving and such a kind group of people to spend it with. All she could do right now was be grateful.

"If you ask me, it seems like they're both trying very hard to be allies on your behalf," Dr. Borden pointed out quietly.

"I know," Jane whispered.

Dr. Borden leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. "They're trying for _you_ , Jane."

"I know," she whispered again, her throat a little tight this time. "I know they are."

Dr. Borden reached out a hand and squeezed her shoulder lightly, smiling when she glanced over at him. "I know it's been a hard couple months, but you do have allies here, Jane. Some of us are confused, some of us are hurt, but we're all still trying to do our best by you nonetheless."

"I'm not sure I deserve that," Jane admitted, avoiding his eye.

Sawyer had nosed his way into Oscar and Kurt's conversation; now the three of them were laughing about something the boy had said. Jane watched as Oscar crouched down to Sawyer's level and rolled up the right sleeve of his sweater; from the boy's curious eyes and poking fingers aimed at Oscar's forearm, Jane knew they must be discussing his tattoo. Kurt started laughing again about something his nephew said, and watching them all together, Jane felt her smile widen, even as her eyes stung a little.

"What did I do to deserve acceptance like this?" she whispered. She tipped her chin towards Oscar, who was now showing Sawyer the tattoo on his right bicep. "I abandoned him without a single look back." She shifted her gaze to Kurt. "I lied to him for months, betrayed his trust in me." She turned to her psychiatrist. "And all of you... What have I done, what single thing have I done, that could make any of you want to be around me after all this?"

"Simple, Jane," Dr. Borden answered calmly. "You've been you: kind and compassionate and selfless. Always looking out for others. Who wouldn't want to spend time with a person like that?"

"'Always looking out for others,'" Jane quoted with a scoff. "Sure, until I stab them in the back."

Dr. Borden sighed. "Jane, we've been over this. The entire Bureau has been over it. You didn't very well have a choice in regards to the information you were given by Oscar's former associates. You were doing your best to protect the people you cared about the way you knew how. And I think that's admirable," he added pointedly. "I think you were brave in what you did, risking what you did."

Jane was quiet for a minute, as pleasant conversation drifted over from the living room, and Sawyer's laugher echoed in the kitchen. "I could've done better," she said finally.

Dr. Borden smiled. "Sure," he allowed, humoring the perfectionist. "But not by much."

* * *

It was nearing ten o'clock when Sawyer finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep on the couch between his mother and his uncle. Kurt smiled at the sleeping boy, commenting that he was surprised the kid had lasted that long, to which his sister rolled her eyes, muttering something about her son being too stubborn for his own good—much like a certain relative she knew.

Kurt smirked, letting the dig go, and watched as Sarah got to her feet and picked her son up. As she made her way out of the room with Sawyer in her arms, Reade got up from his chair without a word and followed her. Jane, surprised at the openness of it, glanced at Kurt, but he didn't seem surprised to see his right-hand man following his sister and her son into the back of the apartment.

Before she could find an appropriate way to ask, though, Kurt got to his feet and went to the kitchen. Tasha, Oscar, and Dr. Borden started up a game of poker, but when they invited her to join, Jane waved them off. She knew that would keep them all occupied for a while, and Sarah and Reade might take some time for themselves alone, so this really was her best chance if she wanted to have a couple minutes of privacy in which to talk to Kurt.

He was beginning to wash out the wineglasses from dinner when she stepped into the kitchen, and when he heard her come in, Kurt glanced over his shoulder with a smile and a nod of his head, as if to say, _Come on over_. She smiled too and, not wanting to linger without helping, she grabbed a dishrag and set out drying the glasses once he'd rinsed them.

"So," she mused after a moment, choosing what seemed like a relatively harmless topic, "Sarah and Reade. I didn't know you knew about them."

Kurt laughed. "Yeah. I have for a while now—it was one of many revelations your incarceration brought about. Reade thought it best to get it off his chest while I had a million other things to deal with."

"Hm," Jane hummed. "Smart. Hit the man while he's down. Good job, Reade."

Kurt snorted, shaking his head at her with a smile. "I'll admit, for a while, I thought you two were in collusion about how many inconveniences to spring on me at once."

"That is one of very few charges I can honestly plead not guilty to."

Kurt laughed. "I suppose you're right. Just the luck of the draw."

As he finished with the last wineglass and handed it to Jane, he turned to the island counter to begin carrying the pots and pans into the sink. For a few minutes, he scrubbed in silence, and she took an extra long time cleaning that last glass. Finally, when she couldn't pretend to clear it of streaks any longer, she set it aside. A moment later, she did the same with her rag, albeit reluctantly.

"You don't have to stay here with me, you know," Kurt told her. He tipped his head back at the living room. "Go, enjoy yourself. Play poker, tell stories, drink. Be with friends."

"You're my friend."

It wasn't until she said the words that she finally acknowledged just how deeply she wanted them to be true again. She felt the hope for them deep in her heart, and simmering nervously in her stomach.

"We are, right?" she whispered. "We're still friends, aren't we? Or—can we try to be again?"

"Jane." Kurt sighed, putting down the sponge. "Listen, you have to know—"

But she couldn't wait to hear whatever it was she had to know. She couldn't stop herself from speaking—from pleading her case, as she had so many times while in custody. He had never been the one interrogating her—Mayfair had secured that honor for herself—but Jane knew he'd always been watching. He'd reviewed the tapes, read the transcripts, lingered over every answer and even more so over every pause. They had never talked about it—but she _knew_.

"I know it's different, Kurt. With me not being Taylor, and the whole truth uncovered, and Oscar around now, I know it's all _so_ different for you. But… You have to know that I still think of you as a friend. As my best friend. And I know these last few weeks we haven't talked much, or seen much of each other really, but… I hope that can change. I hope you know I want it to. And I understand that we can't go back to what we were before, or even who we were then, but I hope we can go forward. I hope—"

"Jane," Kurt interrupted calmly. "Don't waste your breath hoping. Of course we're still friends. We're always going to be friends." He looked her hard in the eye. "Got it?"

She nodded quickly, not sparing a second in deliberation. "Got it," she answered, beaming.

He smiled back, and with that, she added one more item to her long list of things to be thankful for this year.

* * *

 _ **A/N** : Thank you for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated if you have any thoughts on the story. :) And to my American friends, Happy Thanksgiving!_


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